


Stories of your scars

by Nami



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8705647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nami/pseuds/Nami
Summary: Logically, Percival knew that Newt had to have scars. What he hadn’t knew was how much he would be fascinated with them.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Natecchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natecchi/gifts).



> My first GrivesxNewt story. Big thanks to emptymasks @ tumblr for being my beta :)
> 
> For Natecchi.

**Stories of your scars**

 

“ – This one I got when I was rescuing Nundu.” Newt’s fingers moved tentatively along a thin, long line at the right side of his ribs. “Thankfully the dagger wasn’t cursed.”

They were lying together in the bed. A candle on the bedside table was illuminating the room, making shadows dance every time one of them moved. Percival brushed his hand against the scar, but when Newt shifted a bit uncomfortably against him, he immediately took it away.

Percival was used to wounds and scars. It came with his job; not once or twice he had to stop bleeding of one of his aurors or he had to take care of his own wounds before medi-wizards would arrive. Some of wounds caused by particularly nasty hexes had left scars on his body. Percival didn’t mind them, he didn’t turn his gaze away when talking to wizards and witches with scars on their faces or in other visible places. They didn’t bother him at all – all scars meant that someone _survived_. They were a part of his job, a statement of a person’s stubborn will to life and survive despite all odds.

Logically, Percival knew that Newt had to have scars. What he hadn’t knew was how much he would be _fascinated_ with them.

Newt’s scars were different from Percival’s. While Percival’s scars looked like blotches of dry paint (a painful reminder of having his skin and flesh torn out of him), most of Newt’s scars was caused by sharp objects – claws and blades. Some of them were oval, making Percival think about long horns of dangerous, huge beasts, or pikes of tribes living in tropical lands far away from them, hiding from the outside world, ready to attack anyone who dared to try to reveal their secrets.

Despite his appearance, Newt lived a more dangerous life than a good chunk of the population, both wizards and no-majs alike. Every single scar on Newt’s body had a different history, one more terrifying that the other. And Percival kissed them all: from the one on Newt’s fingers (Newt tried to rip a fishing net), to the one on Newt’s back (one of dragons during the world war went into shock and Newt had tried to calm it down), to the one of Newt’s calf (a web of lines left by claws of Nundu), promising himself to show Newt through his kisses that he was still desirable despite his scars, or even more because of them.

At first, Newt had been too conscious about his scars, not letting Percival see him fully, always insisting on switching off lights as soon as they finished preparing for bed. But Percival had been persistent, the patience he had been taught through all those years as an auror paying off, and soon Newt started to get comfortable under Percival’s gaze, his lips and fingers.

It wasn’t this day yet, but soon – Percival had promised that to himself and he wasn’t the one to break a promise – he would make Newt feel comfortable enough to look in the mirror and see his scars in the way Percival saw them: as marks of remarkable courage and kind heart.

But that was for another day. For now, Percival would listen to another blood freezing story of rescuing highly illegal animal, which nearly cost Newt his life, while gently stroking a scar left after that adventure on the body pressed against his own, relishing in the fact that this time Newt would let him touch his scars a for few seconds longer than the last.

One step at time. Slowly, without rush, Percival would gain the trust of the most interesting magical creature living inside the suitcase.

_Fin_


End file.
